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Within living memory Paris has rarely seen so dense and vast a throng as that which assembled on Sunday in the Cathedral of Notre Dame for the special service of "intercession for the success of French arms," when Monseigneur Amette, Cardinal of Paris, preached a stirring sermon, exhorting people to "make extreme sacrifice for their native land."
I know you are wondering what your lady friend in Monte Carlo will think. Well, I can tell you this. She already knows that you have escaped, and she had been told to write to you in secret at the Poste Restante at Brussels." Hugh started. "Who has told her? Surely she knows nothing of the affair at the Villa Amette?" "She will not be told that.
It commenced: "Copy of an 'information' in the archives of the Prefecture of the Department of Herault concerning the woman Marie Mignot, or Leullier, now passing under the name of Yvonne Ferad and living at the Villa Amette at Monte Carlo.
"You wondered why this young Englishman should call upon her at that hour?" said The Sparrow. "I did. She never received visitors after her five o'clock tea. It was the habit at the Villa Amette to lunch at one o'clock, English tea at five o'clock, and dinner at eight when the Rooms were slack save for the tourists from seven till ten. Strange!
Together the two men strolled out into the early morning air and sat upon a seat on the terrace of the Casino watching the sun as it rose over the tideless sea. For nearly an hour they sat discussing the affair; then they ascended the white, dusty road to the beautiful Villa Amette, the home of the mysterious Mademoiselle. Old Giulio Cataldi opened the door.
"Nothing," the old fellow declared promptly. "Since that night I've earned an honest living. I'm a waiter in a cafe in the Avenue de la Gare." "A most excellent decision," laughed the well-dressed man. "It is not everyone who can afford to be honest in these hard times. I wish I could be, but I find it impossible. Now, tell me, Giulio, what do you know about the affair at the Villa Amette?
"The police believe that you went to the Villa Amette and murdered Mademoiselle out of revenge." "Let them prove it!" said the young fellow defiantly. "Let them prove it!" "Prove what?" asked Louise, as she suddenly reopened the door, greatly to the woman's consternation. "Oh! Only somebody that Spicer woman over at Godalming has been saying some wicked and nasty things about Mr.
Before a house in the Rue Rossette he paused, and ascending to a flat on the third floor, rang the bell. The door was slowly opened by an elderly, rather shabbily-attired Italian. It was Yvonne's late servant at the Villa Amette, Giulio Cataldi. The old man drew back on recognizing his visitor. "Well, Cataldi!" exclaimed the well-dressed adventurer cheerily. "I'm quite a stranger am I not?
"Admitted. She acted once as her maid, I believe, in some big affair. But I don't know much about it." "Well, you know what happened at the Villa Amette that night? Have you any idea of the identity of the person who shot poor Mademoiselle the lady they call Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?" "Not in the least," was the reply.
If his place of concealment were spoken of over a West End dinner-table, then it could not be long before detectives arrested him for the affair at the Villa Amette. On that afternoon Hugh had borrowed Mrs. For miles the old road is now grass-grown and forms a most delightful walk, with magnificent views from the Thames Valley to the South Downs.
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